


Why does everything have to go wrong?

by ChopinWorshipper



Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley, Original Work
Genre: Acceptance, Adam being clueless, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Aromantic Character, Crying, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Faust is bisexual aromantic, Humorous Ending, I suck at writing drunk behaviour, Loss of Virginity, Multi, One Night Stands, One-Sided Attraction, Reconciliation, Sexual Harassment, Telepathy, Trans Male Character, Victor is really gay, drunk sex is not consensual sex, keep that in mind, like really dubious, mention of Mother Mary because Faust is technically still Catholic, mention of transphobia, why the fuck did the tags come out so chaotic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23787664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChopinWorshipper/pseuds/ChopinWorshipper
Summary: Dr. Faust thinks that Victor Frankenstein seriously has to learn how to have some fun once in a while. Unfortunately the night goes terribly wrong. Both regret it afterwards.This story is really badly written, compared to what I usually write ...
Relationships: Nicolas Flamel/Perenelle Flamel, Victor Frankenstein/Dr. Faust (one-sided)
Kudos: 5





	Why does everything have to go wrong?

“Do you even know how to amuse yourself?”

“Excuse me?!”

“You heard me.”

Victor looked up from his notes to glare at Dr. Faust, who was filling a gross-looking liquid out of an alembic into a tiny flask.

“This ought to do something about the outbreak”, the necromancer muttered and corked it up, before storing it away safely.

“Now”, he continued, “You haven't answered my question yet.”

Victor had been asked that question before – he had heard it during his university days and sometimes even Clerval had jokingly asked it.

But back then he had been able to just brush them off and tell them to mind their own business.

That didn't work with Dr. Faust, because the smug bastard could read his mind _and_ they were living together – that and he had some _really_ unwelcome feelings for the older man.

“Well?”

Victor's glare hardened. “Of course I know how to amuse myself! I-”

“Scientific study does not count”, the German alchemist cut him off. “Neither does sticking your nose in books for research, rather than entertainment. That's work.”

Oh.

That made things harder.

Victor hardly did anything else.

He liked to sing, but that was just something he did while he worked, not simply because he was feeling like it out of the blue. Sometimes he sketched, but that was also for his work.

He had been taught how to dance and fence, but had enjoyed neither. Nor had he been particularly good at it (or at playing the piano). His curiosity had just been more captivated by science. Nothing else had interested him, still didn't (apart from his current, very one-sided crush on a certain ginger-haired alchemist). Where others had enjoyed flirting or going out drinking and partying, Victor had holed himself up in his room, buried in his studies.

A soft, throaty chuckle alerted him, that Johann had heard his process of thought.

“Ach, Victor! I pity you, I really do!”

“Shut up!”, the black-haired man snapped and glowered at him.

Why did the male witch always have to be so smug?

“Now, now”, the “male witch” laughed, “It's 'necromancer', Victor. It's not the same as a witch.”

“I don't see the difference.”

“Of course you don't. But back to the topic! This will not stand! You have to learn to have fun! You're immortal now, Victor, and there is so much more to life than just studying.”

“But you and the Flamels became immortal by studying!”

“That's true, but it's important to take breaks inbetween and relax. Do you know why we became immortal?”

Victor blinked. He had only ever assumed, that they had looked for the Philosophers' Stone, because they had been afraid to die – just like him.

But Dr. Faust – no, Johann – shook his head. “No, Victor. There is a difference between wanting to live and being afraid to die. We became immortal, because we wanted to live. We wanted to have time to live, to have fun, to discover and to learn all the things there are to learn. There are so many wonders in the world and we wanted the time to see them. A chance at having a life worth living. Of course, if we had to die tomorrow, we would be sad, but we would have no regrets – at least no major ones. You and Adam are the ones, who became immortal out of fear or death. Neither of you knows how to really live and that's just sad.”

Bitterly Victor realised that the older man was right. He had never done something just for the sake of enjoying it. And he had never left his comfort zone out of his own volition. Maybe he really should try something new.

“… You're planning to get me stupid drunk, aren't you?”

“Maybe?”, the other smirked.

“… Fine. First time for everything, I guess.”

“Good!” The doctor laughed. “Don't worry, the tavern I have picked out isn't that busy – if we're lucky, it won't be crowded.”

“'If we're lucky' sounds good”, Victor muttered sarcastically.

“Get your coat”, Johann told him, completely ignoring the snark, “I'll get my purse. Drinks are on me.”

Victor was about to offer taking the bill on himself, but the mad alchemist was already off.

He was just putting his coat on, when Johann came back.

“We need to go to the jeweller first”, the redhead announced.

“Why?”

Johann chuckled sheepishly: “Looks like I misplaced my purse, so we'll sell this diamond first.”

“You know, I can just pay for-”

“Nonsense! I'm the one inviting you! Come along!”

The younger man fondly shook his head and followed.

An hour later the two were sitting in a small, decently crowded tavern and in the process of getting completely plastered.

“… An' then I punched pope Urban VIII. in the face! Jackass looked so stupid, kid!”, Johann finished his tale and laughed.

“Oh damn, I wish I'd seen it!”, Victor giggled.

Even though the older man had already drunk more and stronger beverages, he was no tipsier than Victor. They were both pretty drunk already, though.

“I like 'e music here!”, Victor noted, nodding towards the musicians, who were playing a gay¹ tune. “An' the drinks. An' the service's nice – 's fun here, actually – thanks, man!”

“My pleasure!”, Johann giggled and hiccuped. “You're just a kid, you need to have fun, ya know!”

“I really like ya, man”, the younger man slurred, “Yer so cool an' smart an'-”

The musicians across the room began to play a merry dance.

He gasped: “Oh god, I love that tune!”, jumped up and began to dance to it.

Johann began to cackle: “Is that how you dance, Vic? Cute! Stand back! I'll show ya how to dance!”

He tore off his jacket and waistcoat, jumped onto the table and began to dance like a madman, prompting not only Victor to stop and stare at him.

The musicians saw this and began to play a new, quicker song and everyone jumped up and danced.

 _Damn, I wish I had a way to record this!_ , Victor thought, then gave into the insanity and danced along.

All the while he kept an eye on his older friend, who was looking incredibly sexy and beautiful, the way he danced.

Oh, the things he wanted to do to the older man right now!

After a while the red-haired alchemist fell more than climbed off the table into Victor's arms, drunk from alcohol and euphoria and obviously out of breath.

“Vic …”, he wheezed, “Time to … go home … I think … we …”

“Yeh … better … probably”, Victor panted.

They picked up their coats and waistcoats, overpaid and stumbled home. Once there, they immediately stumbled to the next best vacant room and flung their overgarments into the corner.

Johann had to support himself on the table. That was enough to make Victor concerned.

“Fuck … I can't … breathe …”

Victor didn't waste a second and – despite Johann's cries of protest – violently tore the other's remaining clothes off. The ginger-haired alchemist could now breathe again.

But Victor couldn't be relieved. He was staring at what the forceful stripping had revealed: in the dim light of the lamb, he could see that Johann's body was covered in scars of every possible kind. But that wasn't the shocking thing; what was blowing his mind was …

“Well?”, Johann hissed, “Go on! Call me a freak, a poser or a fraud! I dare you! Tell me that you don't accept me as a man anymore, just because I have a bigger chest and a vagina!”

Was Victor just that drunk or was there something glistening in the other's eyes? Was there really hurt in his voice and eyes and why did he suddenly sound so much more sober?!

“Come on! What are you waiting for? The Flamels did it too, so why would _you_ be any differ-”

Before he could finish, Victor was pressing his lips against the other's in a sloppy kiss. Johann's lips were chapped and tasted of the wine from earlier.

A moment later he was vehemently pushed away and the ginger-haired alchemist was glowering at him.

“Victor, what the fu-?!”

“Yer really sexy!”, the black-haired man blurted out.

“… What?”

“I still think yer a guy. An' I … you … I mean, yer … yer just so hot and I love ya!”

_Shit, did I really just say that?!_

The ginger-haired alchemist was staring at him with flushed cheeks and it looked like his dark blue-grey eyes were going to pop out. Finally he recovered and he put his shirt back on. “Go to bed, Victor. You're wasted.”

“And yer not?”

Johann smirked. “I am, but I can hold my liquor better than you.” He stopped smirking. “Seriously, go to sleep. Before you … _we_ do something stu-”

“Sleep with me.”

“What?!”

“C'mooon”, Victor purred and the other's cheeks darkened even more. Somehow it made him look even hotter. “How bad could it be?”

Even inebriated, Johann could think of at least a dozen reasons why this was a bad idea.

“You want the short list or the long one?”

The younger man shrugged.

Thirteen reasons.

_Maybe I should sober us both up … if only I could remember the spell – WHAT THE FUCK???_

While he had tried to recall the sober-up-spell, Victor had taken his own shirt off.

Johann felt like his cheeks were on fire.

_He doesn't look half bad for a twink … could put on some weight, but otherw– NO!!! Focus!_

“Johann … why's yer face so red?”

_Oh crap._

“I… uhhh …”

“Ya like whatcha see?”, the little brat smirked.

“Stop it, Victor. For the last time, go to sleep, or I will … uhh …”

What _would_ he do? Slap him? Punch him? Knock him out? Damn, he couldn't think straight. And to make it worse, that hubristic bastard wouldn't stop gawking at his whole torso and thinking about how hot he was and how badly he wanted to bone him and touch him everywhere!

“My eyes are _up here_.”

Now it was finally Victor's turn to blush.

_Finally he's looking me in the eye!_

Unfortunately, the desiring gleam in his eye made it slightly hard to keep up his resolve. He needed to get away at last, before-

“I will _not_ sleep with you. Now get away from the door, so I can go to my own ro-”

“No.”

He was starting to panic. “Victor, you don't know what you're doing!”

“But I do!”

“No, you don't! You're drunk! And you're still a _virgin_!”

That seemed to work, as Victor grew pale. “How d'ya know?!”

“I can read your mind, idiot!”

“Oh … right.”

Johann took a deep breath and tried to gather his thoughts. “Victor, listen to me.”

The black-haired mad scientist frowned. “Fine.”

“I know you've wanted to get into my pants since Mary knows when. I know you're horny as hell right now, but we can't do this! Were it just a random (and sober) stranger, I'd say yes, because frankly, I haven't fucked in a while. But not _you_! You're my _friend_!”

He could practically hear Victor's heart shatter.

Then a tear ran down those pale cheeks and his own heart cracked.

“Can … can ya at least kiss me?”, the scientist begged tearfully.

Feeling his resolve go straight to hell, Johann bit his lip and nodded. “Fine. I can do that.”

He entangled his fingers in the taller man's long hair to pull him down to his level and kissed him. This kiss was more tender than Victor's clumsy assault earlier. It quickly became deeper and both of them let their hands wander.

He gasped, when the younger man's hands wandered under his shirt and shuddered, when he felt the other's arousal through the fabric of their trousers.

“Victor!”, he pushed out and choked, when he felt a hand knead one of his breasts.

“Yeah?”

“W-we – ahhh – w-we'll regret this in the morning.”

“I know”, Victor rasped and undid the buttons of Johann's shirt.

*next morning*

When Victor woke up, the first thing he felt was a killer headache, light dizziness and nausea. His throat was feeling as dry as the Sahara and his tongue felt like sandpaper (with extra sand and a really disgusting taste).

The second thing he felt was terror, as suddenly the events of the previous nights came back to him.

Something – no, some _one_ – stirred beside him.

Victor froze in terror, as Johann sat up, groaning: “Oh crap, what the fuck did I-”

The alchemist stopped short.

Froze.

Slowly turned to Victor and stared at him with equal horror.

*meanwhile downstairs*

“Ah, they've woken up”, Nicolas noted, when he heard two piercing screams from upstairs.

Perenelle, who was making crêpes, paused in her movement. “Yes. And looks like they just figured out what they did last night too.”

“You still haven't explained what the hell that was about”, Adam noted and looked at the couple expectantly. “Last night, you told me to ignore that noise, but I seriously want to know what that was! It sounded like someone was in pain.”

“Not last night, I'm sure, but certainly they are _now_ ”, Nicolas remarked and returned to reading the newspaper.

“Who???”

“Your creator and your father”, Perenelle clarified with a sigh.

That caused the homunculus to gape at her. “Wait, what?! Okay, seriously, what the hell did they do?!”

“Trust me, you don't want to know”, Nicolas told him pointedly. “Now stop riddling us with questions and drink your tea.”

By now Adam knew better than to pry further.

Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel might have looked like your average sweet middle-aged couple, but they were not to be trifled with.

*back in Victor's room*

“Johann? Hey, come on, please stop crying! I'm sorry, I really am …”

“No, _I'm_ the one who's sorry!”, the older man sobbed, “I should have stopped this, I was responsible for you! I should have been the sensible one!”

“Uhm, I don't think either of us was in any condition to be sensible”, Victor pointed out.

“I wasn't as drunk as you were!”, the other wailed. “I should have stayed firm! You're but a fraction of my age and this was your first time! But nooo, I was too weak to refuse or do anything about it and here we fucking are!”

“Johann, look at me.”

Finally the ginger-haired alchemist turned around to face him.

Victor was shocked at how freely the tears were running down the older man's face; he had never seen him cry before. Never. And he had known him for fifty years now¹.

“I jeopardised your trust, Victor”, he continued, before the younger man could say something, “Don't try to deny it. I slept with you and took your virginity, when you were drunk and couldn't think straight. There is no excuse. So how can you look me in the eyes and forgive me?!”

Victor knew that the older man was right, but he was no less guilty.

“Hey, now. I'm in no position to judge you. You _did_ say no. You _did_ tell me to stop … at least half a dozen times, I think? And I still kept thrusting myself upon you. So yeah … the sexual coercion was pretty damn mutual there.”

The old alchemist turned away from Victor again and curled up under the covers, until only his ginger pageboy haircut peeped out.

_Oh fabulous, I made it worse! Victor, you fucking idiot!_

The black-haired younger man wanted to kick himself.

“I'm sorry too”, he spoke softly. “I disrespected and overstepped your boundaries by a mile.”

“That you did”, Johann's voice agreed from under the covers.

“And yes … I do feel a bit … taken advantage of. But I did it to you too. I betrayed your trust as well and I'm sorry. I hurt you, even though I-”

“Don't!”, the alchemist suddenly barked and sat up. Before the younger man could even blink, the other was grabbing him by the hair and glaring at him with gritted teeth.

“Don't you fucking tell me that you love me, Victor Frankenstein! Don't you dare! I don't want to fucking hear it!”

“I-I'm sorry!”, Victor squeaked. Startled by both the sudden outburst and the tears that were still running down the other's cheeks.

“What?”, Johann snapped, “Have you never seen me cry before?!”

“Uhh, no?”

“Oh … right. Last time I cried was at my daughter's funeral in 1715. She … she lived to her ninetieth birthday, before she died of old age. Even outlived her children and some of her grandchildren. Can you believe that?”

The memory made him cry even harder and he crawled back under the blanket. When the younger man moved to stroke his red hair, he flinched.

Victor sighed: “Listen, I know that you're upset at me and that you suffer from haphephobia², but I think a hug would do you good right now.”

The immortal alchemist's response was sinking onto his shoulder and sobbing bitterly.

Victor didn't actually embrace the smaller man; he had pushed his boundaries enough. Instead he just took the rough hand that was resting on his lap and stroked it gently with his thumb.

At some point the younger man began to cry as well and they both cried their heartache, hurt and rue out. Neither of them was much of a crier, although Victor definitely cried more often than Johann did (seriously, not shedding a tear for over a hundred years was just … wow). But that meant that when they did, they had just the more tears to shed.

They sat like this for God knew how long, until they both were able to stop crying.

Johann took a deep breath, before withdrawing.

“Feeling better?”, the younger man asked gently.

“Shut the hell up, brat”, the older grumbled.

_That's a yes, then._

“Me too. Well, at least in here.” He pointed at his heart. “Still feeling like shit physically, though.”

Johann laughed again (his oh-so-familiar throaty laugh, but slightly higher-pitched): “That's called having a hangover, Victor. Alcohol fucks your body up like that.”

Victor glared: “And you couldn't warn me, before we got drunk last night?!”

“Where is the fun in that?”, the other cackled. “But hey, I'm hungover too. That's completely normal.”

“You, Johann Georg Faust, are a huge asshole.”

“So are you. We have that in common.”

“Don't you have some anti hangover spell? It really hurts”, Victor whined.

“If you shut up, then I might actually be able to concentrate enough to remember it!”

The black-haired mad scientist shut up.

It took maybe a few minutes, before the necromancer seemed to remember a spell, snapped his fingers and they both were fit again.

Victor finally stretched himself. “Ahhh, much better. Thanks.”

“You're welcome. But one thing is for sure, I'm never going to take you out drinking again.”

“Yeah, that's probably for the best.”

“And we shall never speak of this.”

“My lips are sealed.”

“Good. Although …” Johann seemed to hesitate. “I suppose I owe you an explanation. You know, about _this_.” He pointed at his chest, which he was currently covering up with the blanket.

Victor shook his head. “Johann, don't. There is nothing to explain. I know that you're a man. Who cares, if your chest is bigger than mine. Sure, hearing you speak with a higher voice than usual is a bit weird, but it's okay.”

The alchemist cleared his throat and went back to speaking with his usual tenor. “Don't mind that. You won't hear my natural voice often.”

The younger man shrugged. But he was a bit confused, when the older turned away from him again.

“Thank you for being so accepting, though. I really appreciate that. The Flamels didn't take it that well.”

Victor frowned. He could imagine Nicolas making a fuss, but what about Perenelle?

He could hear the scowl in Johann's voice, as he answered: “She did accept it, but only because her husband's intolerance made me so upset – she fucking _pitied_ me.”

“Yikes.”

“I took it, because it was the closest thing to acceptance I ever got in my life, but damn! They never minded my necromancy, or that I'm only a Catholic by name and then this! What a whole load of bullshit!”

“Yep.”

“Oh, and speaking of my necromancy.”

Victor yelped in surprise, when the older man whirled around again and grabbed his shoulder to pull him down to his eye level.

“I may not have remembered any of my magic last night, no thanks to my drunken state”, Johann growled lowly, “But just a kind reminder, that I am still a powerful mage, who can even summon and raise the dead. I will not allow last night to repeat itself. I promise to never touch you again. But know this: if you ever try to make to moves on me again … you won't live long enough to hear me say 'no'. And it won't matter, whether you're sober or not. Keep that in mind, young man!”

He knew that the necromancer was serious.

Still he couldn't help but chuckle wryly: “Duly noted, Dr. Faust.”

“Also”, the ginger-haired alchemist went on, “you asshole came inside me last nigh. If you knocked me up, I'll fucking reduce you to ashes and abort it, because the last thing I want is to go with child from a spoiled brat, who abandoned his first creation, because he didn't like its appearance.”

“… Fair enough.” Still stung, though.

Johann sighed and jumped out of the bed, until Victor (short-sighted as he was) only saw him as a skin-coloured and orange-red blur. He put his glasses on and finally recognised his own room.

The older man was currently putting on his binder. “Let's get dressed and go down for breakfast. I really need something to drink and eat. And we should probably apologise to the Flamels … pretty sure they heard us last night. And they definitely heard our screaming earlier.”

“Okay. Shall I help you with your binder?”

“What did I just say?!”

“Sorry, sorry!”

“Ugh. You're lucky we're friends.”

Victor leapt out of his bed in pleasant surprise. “You … you still see me as a friend?”

Johann buttoned up his shirt, before he turned around in annoyance. “That's what I just said, you-”

“OH THANK YOU!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!”

Victor really wanted to throw himself at the smaller man and hug the shit out of him, but remembered at the last second, that Johann was haphephobic.

The smaller alchemist smiled in amusement. “What, did you think I was going to hate you for a slip-up that for a large part was _my_ fault? I really thought you knew me better.”

He laughed: “At least you made me come. Most of the people I fucked didn't. You weren't half bad for a virgin.”

Victor smirked lopsidedly: “If our both consent hadn't been so dubious, I'd actually find it pretty cool that I slept with the great Dr. Faust _and_ managed to not completely suck at it. I mean, how often are you actually satisfied with me?”

“Yeah, whatever. Now put some clothes on already, you dork. Talking to a nude embarrasses even me.”

Victor blushed awkwardly and got dressed.

“So, the mad alchemist and the mad scientist are finally gracing us with their presence”, Nicolas remarked, when they finally came downstairs.

“Uh-uh, no need to explain”, he said, when the German alchemist opened his mouth to explain. “We already know. You two were quite vocal last night.”

Victor blushed awkwardly. “Yeah … we're sorry for that.”

“Apology accepted.”

From the corner of his eye, the Frenchman spied Adam opening his mouth, but Johann spoke: “No, Adam, you may not ask.”

The homunculus gave up: “Alright, fine.”

Perenelle turned around to face them. “Good morning to you two, by the way. Your crêpes are almost done. Oh, and Jean? Before you go and open your surgery later, you should hide those hickeys.”

Faust blinked. “Hickeys?”

He darted into the hallway to the next mirror.

Nicolas had just time to tell Victor to run.

Then the house shook, as Johann roared in pure rage: “VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN!!! _ICH BRING DICH UM_ _³_!!!”

The mad scientist wasted no time and bolted out of the window.

Nicolas and Perenelle just spied a flash of white and orange-red, before Nicolas adjusted his pince-nez and looked out of the window.

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards; the sight of Dr. Faust chasing after Victor Frankenstein with a walking cane was quite comedic.

“It's a shame that Jean doesn't love Victor”, Perenelle noted, “I think they suit each other.”

Nicolas laughed: “Yes, as well as two completely crazy bastards can suit each other!”

**Author's Note:**

> 1) In my headcanon, the events of Frankenstein and his Creature happened in the 1770s, so this one-shot is playing in the 1820s.  
> 2) haphephobia: the fear of being touched, of body contact. Dr. Faust never liked body contact, but it only became a real phobia during the events of the Thirty Years War (1618 - 1648).  
> 3) ICH BRING DICH UM!!! - German: I WILL KILL YOU!!!


End file.
